


Lines in the Sand

by notavodkashot



Series: Discretion and Restraint [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Awkward First Times, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Missing Scene, Mostly smut this time around, Mutual Masturbation, Naked Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7241884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notavodkashot/pseuds/notavodkashot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing smut scene from Chapter XIII of <em><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6796588/chapters/16406185">Discretion and Restraint</a></em>, Boundaries, where after settling on what they are and aren't, Byakuya and Renji proceed to sorta work out weeks worth of sexual frustration. It's... about as awkward as you'd expect from two emotionally stunted morons trying not to give away how excited they are at the idea, lest the other finds it a turn off.</p><p>But hey, baby steps, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lines in the Sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [temporalDecay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalDecay/gifts).



  


* * *

  


Lines in the Sand. 

  


* * *

  


Despite the time he had spent thinking about it and his determination to commit to it, Byakuya did falter a little, when Renji closed the door behind him and they found themselves alone in his room. He'd never been there, before, and he stalled somewhat, running his eyes along the surprisingly tidy space. A rustle of cloth made him look up, and he stared a little, as he watched Renji carefully place his zanpakuto on a rack hanging from the wall. After a moment of consideration, he removed Senbonzakura from his side, and held it out for Renji to take. Somehow that gesture felt more intimate than even the kisses they had shared before, and the slight widening of Renji's eyes let him know he felt the same. 

“So,” Renji began, and then didn't continue, staring at Byakuya like he wasn't entirely sure what to do next, now that the momentum from the office had died off. 

“You wanted to touch,” Byakuya said, shrugging ever so slightly as if to pretend he wasn't terribly unsure about what to do next, and hoping Renji would take the lead. 

Renji took a step forward, biting the inside of his lip. 

“Only if you want me to,” he said, resigned to the fact his face was probably going to melt off at some point, through sheer blushing. 

“I do,” Byakuya admitted quietly. 

“Okay,” Renji said, voice soft, and took a deep breath as he reached out to kiss him again. 

There was an ocean of awkward all around them, that slowly bled away as they found their pace kissing once more. Byakuya found he suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands, so he pressed them against Renji's chest. He sucked in a surprised breath when Renji's fingers tangled with his own and tugged them down to the sash knotted around his waist. Despite his best efforts, the kiss slowed down as he tried to undo it, and he found his fingers clumsy and uncooperative. He felt his face heat up ever so slightly as he looked down and finally coerced the fabric loose, and the feeling only intensified when he looked up and saw the expression on Renji's face. 

“May I?” He asked, hands trailing up Byakuya's arms to rest on his shoulders, fingering the heavy fabric of his haori. 

“Yes,” and Byakuya kissed him as Renji slid it off his shoulders, to keep him from seeing the full extent of the obnoxious blush fighting to settle on the bridge of his nose. “Let me see you,” he demanded, when the kiss ran out of air, tilting his face to press the words against the bold black lines zigzagging along Renji's neck. 

Renji groaned, and as Byakuya basked in the sound, he couldn't for the life of him remember why he'd been so certain this would be a bad idea. 

Particularly when he gave in to temptation and bit on said black lines and Renji made a sound that drilled its way directly into his gut and made air seem scarce all of a sudden. 

“...do that again?” Renji asked, and Byakuya was struck by the notion of how silly such politeness was, at the moment. 

He did comply, though, if only to hear that sound again. Renji did not disappoint. He did, however, pull away enough to shrug off the top half of his uniform, and as more of Renji's tattoos came into sight, Byakuya was assaulted by that same distraction he'd endured since their stay in the Human world. Only now he could give into the terrible temptation to trace a finger along them and watch Renji's skin break into goosebumps in return. 

“Yes, yes,” Renji said, voice gruff as if it could somehow negate the rather charming shade of fuchsia that seemed to have permanently set up residence on his face. “You can tell me how much you hate them.” 

Byakuya arched an eyebrow, quietly staring at his hand as it traced along the fold of muscle over Renji's ribs and tried to puzzle out why exactly he would feel that way. Perhaps, he thought a little bitterly, he had made an untoward comment at some point. He couldn't honestly remember. 

“I certainly don't,” he said, rather than give into the urge to wallow in annoyance at himself. “I would not...” He fumbled for the right verb and found he didn't know it. “ _Wear_ them, myself, but they suit you rather well.” 

They also made Renji look like a hired thug, admittedly, but half the fun behind such mental images, in Byakuya's opinion, was the certainty that Renji was _anything_ but. Rather the same, he thought, as with the surly lieutenant of the Ninth. He pulled his hand away, although he didn't really want to, and reached up to unwound the kenseikan from his hair. It was a tedious thing, but he supposed it should be done sooner rather than later. At the very least it proved his fingers had not magically become clumsy and incapable of basic motions. He reached down and left the bone-like ornament lying atop his Captain haori, and as he stood up, hair rustling as he did, he felt strangely light without the symbols of his office weighting him down and reminding him what a terrible idea it all was. 

Alas, Renji seemed to have been distracted by something – that something being the sudden, unrelenting mental image of ink on Byakuya's skin, and there was something new Renji learned about himself, right there and then, considering the pulse of warmth that settled in the pit of his stomach at the thought, combined with the sight of his hair loose like he'd never seen before without injury of some kind being involved – so Byakuya found it perfectly acceptable to kiss him again and drag him back to the present. He entertained himself by cataloging the reactions he could get with even the tiniest variations of pressure and teeth, making Renji's attempts to get him out of his clothes all the more amusing. It was petty, perhaps, but it made him feel better about his earlier annoyance with Renji's sash. 

Byakuya expected his skin to resent the chill as Renji finally bared it to the air, but the room was warm and comfortable, and he wasn't entirely sure it was because of the room itself or the intense, thoughtful look Renji was giving him. He seemed to be fascinated by the forest of scars populating his skin, from its most recent addition, the claw marks from the hollow attack he received for the sake of saving Renji in the Human world, to the tiny, nearly faded oldest ones, from when he learned to control his shikai. Byakuya stared down as Renji thumbed the mark where Ichimaru had skewered him through, and realized all of a sudden how many scars he'd collected over the decades. As many as Renji had tattoos, apparently, and the thought entertained him for some reason he wasn't wholly sure he could explain. 

“You seem surprised,” Byakuya said, as Renji seemed to lose momentum again, thumbing along this or that scar without further working on removing the last bit of clothing getting in the way. 

It was to Byakuya's understanding they'd need to get rid of that, certainly, for them to continue into more... pleasurable endeavors, after all. 

But Renji was still stuck staring at those scars. He had not, truth be told, expected the scars. It wasn't that he minded the scars themselves, either. He'd always seen scars as something to be proud of, like a small ledger of all those things that hit you hard enough to leave a mark, but not so hard you couldn't survive it. No, it wasn't the scars, themselves, but the idea that Kuchiki Byakuya would have them. His Captain was aloof and powerful and surely something so banal as scars were beneath him. But apparently not. 

“I never noticed them,” Renji admitted, feeling eminently silly about it, considering the time he'd spent patching up Byakuya after the incident in the Human world. To be fair, though, the spectacular bleeding gashes had been somewhat distracting at the time. 

“Perhaps,” Byakuya said with a small smirk, trailing his hands up Renji's shoulders to his head, tilting it upwards enough he was meeting his eyes again, “once your training is completed, you may leave a few yourself.” 

Renji made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and leaned in to kiss him again, pressing close enough tattoos and scars slid against each other. 

“That idea,” he muttered against his lips, settling his hands on Byakuya's hips, “should not turn me on this much.” 

“Why not?” Byakuya smirked as he caught Renji's lip between his teeth and held it there just long enough for a shiver to run down his spine. “Fighting is its own kind of pleasure.” 

And Renji was struck again, by that impossibly strange thought, that his current Captain resembled his former in entirely too many ways to count. At least once one got past the initial ludicrousness of the notion. But he would have not been surprised, in the slightest, to hear such a thing tumble down Zaraki's mouth. 

“I could make a really, really _lame_ pun right now,” he said instead, long resigned to the fact his face was flaming and trying to power through it with sheer determination. “About acceptable kinds of swordplay in bed,” he went on, grinning wryly when Byakuya snorted in the back of his throat, “but I'm not entirely sure I'd survive it and frankly I'm more interested in h-having sex with you right now, than figuring out your personal stance on really lame puns.” 

Renji felt inordinately proud of himself for only one slight stumble along that sentence and then shivered somewhat as Byakuya's eyes fell half-mast. Long, spidery fingers slid down his chest to tug at the last bits of clothes still holding onto his hips, and Renji had one last moment of terrified wonder that this was happening at all, before Byakuya leaned in to bite the tattoos on his throat again. 

“At the moment, I'm far more interested in your stance on this,” he said, inwardly satisfied to finally hear the rustle of Renji's hakama crumpling around his ankles. 

Renji had a moment of indecision as to how to reply to that, before he truly committed to the unreality that was Kuchiki Byakuya half naked in his quarters, egging him on. It was just sex, after all, which they both wanted, and which definitely, for certain would not ruin everything Renji had worked so hard for. Because in the end, they were Captain and lieutenant, and Byakuya had all but promised to not lose sight of that, no matter what. Renji knew what promises from Byakuya meant, and so he allowed himself a smirk as he pulled back. 

It was just sex, after all. He knew how sex worked. Sex was _easy_. 

“My stance is that I don't feel like standing anymore,” he said, folding himself back with a strange sort of liquid grace that made Byakuya's breath catch in his throat as he ended up half sprawled, half sitting on the bedding, tattoos echoing the twist of muscles like a ripple. “Y'know?” 

It also made it absolutely impossible to hide the evidence of his arousal, and it forced Byakuya to make the last choice on the matter. One last way out. He resisted the urge to smirk, just a little, as he discarded the last of his clothes. At the rate they were going, their last minute contingencies were going to themselves have contingencies. But still, the way Renji licked his lips as he lowered himself to kneel between his legs made Byakuya's skin tingle with the promise of another of those impertinent blushes he swore to have grown out of decades prior. 

“I do not,” Byakuya whispered, leaning in to catch Renji's mouth once more and press him back against the plush surface, “but I believe I'm starting to.” 

As he laid on Renji, he shifted his balance and rested his weight on his left elbow, lying his arm along Renji's head. This allowed Renji to grab his free hand and pulled it down between them, where the tantalizing friction was still sporadic at best. And then he was touching Renji and watching his expression shift, from up close, as Byakuya figured out what sort of touch made Renji react which way. It was a fascinating little game that heated up his blood nicely and made breathing a hard, strenuous task that was so very worth it. 

“I thought I was the one who wanted to touch,” Renji wheezed, gripping Byakuya's wrist with his hand when he felt himself dangling entirely to close to the edge already. 

“I never said you couldn't,” Byakuya replied, though in a way he was glad Renji hadn't: his erection was pressed against the dip in Renji's hip, right where his leg melted into his torso, and he felt it twitch in time with his pulse, even though the friction against it had been mostly coincidental at that point. Byakuya trailed a finger along the underside of Renji's cock and offered a teasing smirk that made the redhead shiver. “Perhaps I misheard, however. Perhaps you said I want to _be_ touched, instead, and this is all a terrible misunderstanding.” 

Renji groaned and pushed upright, sitting up and forcing Byakuya to relocate as he found himself straddling Renji's thighs and holding onto Renji's shoulders for balance. 

“Have I reminded you today, that you're an asshole?” Renji asked, pressing his forehead against Byakuya's and smirking despite it all. 

Byakuya's breathing hitched a little as he tried to settle in comfortably in the new position and found even the smallest movement translated to Renji's erection sliding alongside his own. 

“Not today, no,” but Byakuya's sardonic reply trailed off into a moan when Renji rolled his hips against him, purposefully this time. 

“Touching you is nice,” Renji pointed out unnecessarily, given the slickness spreading between them and making the friction _wet_ , on top of intoxicating. “And I'm not complaining about being touched.” He slid his arms around Byakuya's waist, to give himself better leverage. 

“But?” Byakuya prompted, breathless, as Renji seemed to have lost his train of thought for a moment. 

The redhead licked his lips. 

“But we can keep at it for about three more minutes, if you absolutely promise not to moan distractingly again, or...” He said, stopping abruptly because Byakuya did exactly that, pressing the sound against Renji's lips. Renji bit him for it, tightening his hold on him for a moment before letting his hands fall down to the bedding. “Or you can stop being a tease, and grab the green vial from the dresser.” 

Byakuya took a moment to simply look at Renji's flushed face, damp with sweat, and simply leaned in to kiss him. Renji shuddered, more so when Byakuya's hips began to move against his and those long fingers wrapped around the head of his dick like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Or both,” Byakuya muttered, pushing him back down and redoubling his efforts to shove him off the metaphorical cliff he was so very clearly standing on. 

Watching Renji unravel entirely made Byakuya's eyes darken slightly as he found himself suddenly tempted to fall along with him. He resisted the urge when Renji threw his arms over his face, heaving harsh breaths and groaning in the back of his throat as his entire body trembled ever so slightly. Slowly, mindful of his own arousal, he disentangled himself, despite the fact Renji made a sound that very nearly made him lose his balance. 

When Byakuya turned back, said little vial in hand, he found Renji had rolled onto his side and he seemed to have lost his hair tie at some point, because the mussed up locks of bright red hair were spilling everywhere and half-hiding his face. It was a striking image, the black stripes heaving along each breath and just the sheer bulk of Renji's frame, considerably more solidly built than Byakuya's own, spread out like a particularly well executed brush stroke. 

But the hair stuck to Byakuya's mind, and entirely unwanted memories of the last time he'd seen Renji with his hair down tumbled across his mind. It soured the moment, and he found himself dropping the vial on one of the small localized piles of clothes around the floor as he crossed the distance in three strides and slid back into Renji's arms, mouth seeking his. 

“You want this, truly,” he said, and despite the hazy heat rolling inside his head, Renji realized that was a question, not a statement of fact. 

He didn't know what brought on the sudden shift in the mood, and it was poignant, alright, the way Byakuya's expression transmitted intensity instead of playfulness all of a sudden. He wasn't sure he had enough brain power at the moment to address the issue with words, not with little sparks still crawling all over his skin. So he chose instead to hook a leg on Byakuya's and hold his stare as one of his hands slid between them. Gray eyes widened in surprise at the touch, and Renji could all but see Byakuya's train of thought derail itself spectacularly under the weight of his gaze. When Byakuya finally closed his eyes, Renji leaned in to bite the base of his throat and found he couldn't resist leaving a very obvious mark there, as Byakuya stumbled gracelessly through orgasm in his arms. 

“I want this,” Renji said, voice low and almost... purring, as he shifted them about until Byakuya was lying on his back and Renji loomed on him, hair falling easily down the sides of his face. “A lot and often,” he added, kissing up Byakuya's throat but resisting the urge to leave further imprints of his teeth there, since the scarf Byakuya wore usually would not cover them like the one right above his collar bones, “I just never knew I could want it.” 

There was a moment of silence that made Renji worry he'd somehow fucked it up already, but then Byakuya's arms wrapped around his neck and he knew it was all going to be alright. 

  


* * *

  


Renji woke up two hours later, from a nap he hadn't been aware he'd taken, to find Byakuya, still very much naked, lying on his side and idly tracing along the black lines along his back with one hand. When he noticed Renji was awake once more, he said nothing, only brought his other hand up to show he'd had, at some point, recovered said little green vial. 

Renji snorted, feeling well rested and still basking in the last lingering ghosts of pleasure running in his veins. 

“How likely am I to get your dick up my ass,” he asked, emboldened by said pleasant buzz still trapped between his ears, his lips pursing into a teasing smirk as Byakuya's own tightened in reproach at the crude language, “if I make a stamina training joke right now?” 

“More likely than if you make another ill begotten _pun_ ,” Byakuya replied dryly, causing Renji to snicker as he rolled sideways until he was lying on his back. 

“You love my puns,” Renji teased, shrugging unrepentant. 

“I do no such thing,” Byakuya insisted, even as he leaned in to press his mouth to the underside of Renji's jaw. “It is the antithesis of endearing.” 

“What do you find endearing, then?” Renji asked, just less flippantly enough to give Byakuya pause. 

“Not you,” he said, and then proceeded to disprove the statement as thoroughly as possible. 

Renji did not complain. 

  


* * *

  


“Would you go with me?” Renji asked, basking in the warmth of Byakuya in his bed and Byakuya's fingers tracing along the tattoos on his side. “To the party?” 

Byakuya's finger stopped along his skin as the grey eyes bore into him with a considering look. They were naked still, but the awkwardness had melted off and refused to come back just yet, and for a moment there, it almost seemed like it was gone for good. 

“To the Eleventh?” Byakuya sounded offended at the mere idea. 

Renji grinned and reached out to press his lips against a collar bone. Byakuya looked significantly less constipated after that. 

“I feel like celebrating,” the redhead said, and added, in an impish tone, “and if you promise not to demolish the place again...” 

“Hn,” Byakuya replied, looking away in what Renji was getting better at recognizing as embarrassment. “Perhaps.” 

“Really?” Renji blinked, not having actually expected Byakuya to agree. 

“Perhaps I too feel like celebrating,” he said, with that prim and proper tone that clashed horribly with his loose hair and the imprint of Renji's mouth at the base of his throat. 

“Mhm,” Renji snickered, shifting along to lay more of his weight on him and delighting in the way Byakuya's breathing hitched ever so slightly. “Problem is,” he went on, resting his cheek on a shoulder, “it's kinda bad form, to show up naked.” 

“It's the Eleventh,” Byakuya said dryly, “I'm not entirely sure there exists such a thing as _bad form_ , in the Eleventh.” 

Renji laughed, and as Byakuya basked in the sound and even joined in with a very quiet chuckle of his own, he found everything was alright with the world. 

  


* * *

  



End file.
